Worst Case Scenario
by Shannon Vega
Summary: On Hiatus...The Medical Investigation team is called to an American military base to try to stop an apparent outbreak. MEVA and NATHEN
1. Chapter 1

Title: Worst Case Scenario

Author: Shannon Vega

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing save the characters not appearing in Medical Investigation. No similarity to persons, living or dead, is intended. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity thereof, nor otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house while constructive comments will be welcomed and use to improve the story.

Summary: The Medical Investigation team is called to an American military base to try to stop an apparent outbreak. (MEVA and NATHEN)

Author's Note: To my knowledge none of the events that follow have ever happened or will happen. Blame the fact that I watch the "worst case scenarios" shows on Discovery and the History Channel for the subject matter and themes of this story. Reviews are rewarded with cookies.

Pairings: Miles/Eva and Stephen/Natalie

Spoilers: Everything up to "Mission La Roca"

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Worst Case Scenario

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The troop transport landed with all the grace of a several thousand pound albatross, taxiing slowly across the tarmac towards the metal buildings at one of its corners. The air was thick with the humidity and heat that North Carolina was infamous for, the skies a putrid grey indicating that the heavens were considering rain. Slowly the rotors finished their revolutions and came to a halt.

"Welcome home, gentlemen," came the voice of the pilot, signaling that the camouflage clad men could begin to rise from their jump seats.

Minutes later a hundred standard issue boots hit the ground.

"Glad to be back, Abrams?" came the question from a sergeant, his stripes stacked two high.

The corporal nodded. "Yup, Sarge. Got a date."

The older man chuckled. It was well known that the younger man was engaged to a girl in Fayetteville. But that was expected in a place like Fort Bragg, home of the Airborne and a few other groups. "Just so long as we're not in the Sudan, anywhere's better."

The younger man nodded, cupping his hand over his mouth as he coughed. "Definitely, Sarge."

The older man glanced with concern at the corporal. "You should stop by the doc and have that cough checked out."

Abrams grinned. "A cough never killed, Sarge."

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The blonde tugged a brush through her hair, glancing at her reflection. The reflection was pretty enough, though not in the skanky way of the strippers on Bragg Boulevard or the whores who sold their wares for $20.00. No, she was apple pie and home and cookouts, an all American girl.

"Mary, you gonna spend all day in there?" came the whine from outside the bathroom.

The young woman grinned, setting down her brush and moving to the door. "I have to make myself look beautiful. Hank is going to be here any minute."

A sigh sounded through the particle board door. "Your G.I. Joe's already here, babe. And he's getting bored going through your lingerie drawer."

Mary yanked open the bathroom door, meeting the gaze of her roommate Debbie. "Gee, you couldn't entertain him?" she asked sarcastically.

The brunette smirked, arms crossed over her ample chest. "Not my specialty. Though I did put him in front of your computer with the latest Rob Zombie DVD."

Mary grinned. "Thanks. You know Hank. You headed out?"

Debbie nodded as well as she picked up her satchel of books. "Got a seminar in twenty with the Walrus, then I'm heading to the Palamino. Dollar drink night." She paused, glancing towards the airborne enlisted man sitting on her friend's bed. "He's got a cough, doll. Whiskey's the ultimate cure-all so you two should come."

Mary chuckled, ushering her friend to the door. "Go, have fun. We'll see. I intend to get reacquainted with my future hubby."

Debbie shrugged. "Have fun."

The door shut with a firm click, the lock turning to give the two young people their privacy. Mary turned to look at her fiancé. Oh, yeah. Time to make up for lost time.

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Stephen Connor leaned back in the bleachers. He looked just like any other father, though most of the other fathers present had neither the light blonde hair and blue eyes nor the athletic body.

The vibrating phone on his hip drew his attention from the baseball game. He frowned, glancing down as his hand moved automatically to snatch it from it's holster. Flipping it open, he hit the call button and rested it against his hear. "Connor," he barked.

He stilled as he listened, the color slipping from his already fair skin. "You're certain."

Another pause.

He nodded and pressed the end call button before hitting a button on his keypad to dial a number from memory. He was already standing from the bleachers and descending to the packed reddish Maryland dirt and browning grass by the time he heard an answer on the other end. "Nat, get the team ready. Briefing in an hour and then we're going to North Carolina."

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Traffic on any of the highways or byways of D.C. is the equivalent of the ninth circle of Hell. Only in the Nation's Capital could a man threaten to kill himself on a bridge, bring traffic throughout the metropolis grinding to a halt for hours, and be the target of hundreds of wishes that "he'd just get it over with." Though there was no mentally unbalanced man halting traffic on most days, it didn't seem to matter.

Natalie sipped her coffee. Since it was a Saturday, traffic was decidedly lighter than usual. Luckily she'd not been knee-deep in something when Connor had called. Instead, she'd been able to grab her overnight bag and toss it in the trunk of her car before swinging by the corner 7-11 for a cup of coffee.

Whatever was going on, it was bad. Stephen's voice had been taut with tension--the kind that came from Kate trying to destroy their team or a level four or five pathogen.

Eva and Miles were on their way in together. Ever since Colima those two had been very close. Perhaps it was watching Miles so ill that forced Eva to confront her closeness to the young doctor. Whatever the reason, Natalie couldn't help rooting for the two NIH employees and their fledgling romance.

And Frank, who had expressed in his uniquely Frank way how sick the NIH's timing was, was also on his way in.

Natalie guided her sedan off the highway and onto the suburban streets that surrounded her place of employment. Offering a smile to the guard at the parking lot, she pulled into the lot and her parking spot. She stepped out of the car, her coat draped over her forearm and her coffee and duffel bag in each hand. The parking lot was less full than it usually was, likely due to the fact that it was a Saturday. There wasn't the crush to get into the building and she easily badged in and passed security on her way to the elevator.

Stepping onto the eighth floor, she strode down the hallway towards her office. The only office with a light on was Stephen's, letting Natalie know that he had already arrived. She walked to his door, watching as he sifted through papers on his desk. "Hey," she offered.

Stephen looked up. "You're here. Good. Are the others here?"

Natalie leaned back, casting a quick glance at the other offices. "Not unless they're either in the break room or the bathroom."

Stephen nodded, rising from his chair. "Then we'd better head to the conference room."

Natalie nodded, pausing to drop her coat and bag off in her office before falling into step with Stephen. "So what's in North Carolina?"

Stephen's expression was tight. "Fort Bragg."

Natalie frowned. It wasn't exactly a secret that Stephen was former Army. That he didn't really talk about it was par for the course. Connor rarely talked about anything that wasn't immediately related to a case. "And what's in Fort Bragg?" she queried cautiously.

He waited to answer her question until they were within the confines of the conference room. Stephen nodded her towards a chair and took the one near her, setting the folders that he'd carried from his office on the table in front of him. "Aside from the Airborne, Delta, and Air Force, there's a training center for several other services." He paused. "And a possible outbreak of Ebola hemorrhagic fever affecting both military and civilian patients."

Natalie dropped heavily into the chair. "How? Is it a terrorist attack?"

Stephen sat down. He'd decided to tell Natalie first because he knew that, of all of the team, she'd likely be the one most at risk since she was their pathologist. "They don't think so. It started after a unit cycled back from the Sudan."

Natalie forced herself to breathe. "There hasn't been an Ebola outbreak in Sudan since June 16, 2004."

Stephen swallowed a smile. Even though it was a serious situation, her quick mind never ceased to amaze him. "True. But since we don't know what Ebola's natural reservoir is, the soldiers could have gotten exposed to it in country."

Natalie nodded. "Or it could be a terrorist attack. Cripple the elite of the military and the support network they depend on."

The sound of approaching steps told them both that they would soon have company.

Stephen watched as Frank dropped into a chair across from him, while Eva and Miles claimed chairs side by side. "Thank you for coming in today. I know that we were all looking forward to a weekend off, but this is urgent."

Frank nodded silently while Miles leaned forward, dark eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"We're going to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. There's a possible outbreak of Ebola. We'll be liaising with a Colonel James Whittaker at Womack Military Hospital. Eva, your task is to keep the press out of this. The last thing we need is a panic. Frank, we need to determine the point of origin--whether it was a terrorist attack or whether this was exposure in Sudan. Nat, you'll determine if it is Ebola and if not, what it is. Miles, you will be in charge of treatment."

Natalie glanced at Miles, noticing that the sparkle of curiosity had been replaced by a bone-chilling dread.

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TBC…

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing save the characters not appearing in Medical Investigation. No similarity to persons, living or dead, is intended. I apologize for any liberties I may take as far as physical descriptions of places. For the record, I work customer service for a cellphone company and have no intimate knowledge of bioterrorism or deadly diseases. Please don't send Homeland Security to knock on my door. The newspaper in this story is not real but is based loosely on the local paper in Fayetteville, NC. The characters are fictional and are not meant to be similar to anyone nor anyone else's story. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity thereof, nor otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house while constructive comments will be welcomed and use to improve the story.

Summary: The Medical Investigation team is called to an American military base to try to stop an apparent outbreak. [MEVA and NATHEN

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who've read and reviewed. And please, keep it coming.

Rating: M

Pairings: Miles/Eva and Stephen/Natalie

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Worst Case Scenario

Chapter Two

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Natalie flipped through the papers that had been faxed from North Carolina. Not only had the NIH been contacted, so had both the CDC and USAMRIID. It had been agreed that the NIH would take point to avoid a pissing match between the two more high-profile agencies. Stephen would have to deal with the CDC, USAMRIID, FBI, the North Carolina SBI, local police, Homeland Security, and the U.S. Army. Which meant that she would be smoothing egos ruffled by Stephen.

A quick glance across the plane told her that her boss was already wading into the fray, his phone to his ear as he spoke with someone on site in tense, low tones. Not for the first time she was glad that she'd declined the job that Stephen possessed.

She'd already spoken with the doctors on site. They'd set up a field lab for her but there was no level 4 biocontainment facility in the state of North Carolina as of yet. Which meant that if it was ebola, she'd be taking it to Richmond, Virginia. So far there were four victims, three military and one civilian. There would likely be more. And the local civilian hospital had been advised that Womack would be taking over any suspicious cases.

So far, they'd lucked out on the press angle. There was a local paper but no local television station. There were, however, a few points of concern. Several local call centers for cellular and cable service, the military base, and a highly transient population. This was a city on interstate 95. And Eva had been working spin control since just after the meeting in the conference room. The story being spread was that a very serious flu was being spread and that anyone with symptoms should report to the hospital.

Now for the timeline. She sifted through the papers until she came to the rough timeline provided by Colonel James Whittaker at Womack Military Hospital. The troops had returned from the Sudan 14 days before. Well within the timeframe for ebola to manifest. All of the troops who'd been on the plane, including the pilots, had been quarantined. So far, nothing.

The decreasing of altitude coupled with the setting of the landing gear told Natalie that they were about to land. It had been a quick flight and she'd barely begun to even start getting a handle on this.

She watched Miles grip the armrests as the plane descended, his hand quickly covered by Eva's slim fingers. Each time they went into the field they risked so much. Frank had nearly been lost in the frigid arctic, his daughter's birthday missed. Miles had nearly died in Colima. She couldn't help but wonder what they would face this time.

"Welcome to lovely Fort Bragg, North Carolina, where the temperature is ninety-three degrees, the humidity at eighty percent. Have a pleasant day, folks," came the almost-too-sunny voice of their pilot.

Eva, designer bag already slung over her shoulder, glanced suspiciously towards the front of the plane. "Did someone miss their calling as a Disney tour guide?" she asked sarcastically.

Miles smiled weakly as he unfolded his lanky body from the seat he'd been planted in since takeoff. "At least he got us here in one piece."

Frank was already glancing out the windows of the side of the plane, dark eyes watching the camouflage-clad men waiting on the tarmac. "We have a welcoming committee," he announced.

Stephen nodded, motioning towards the opening door of the plane and the steps leading down. "And we're burning daylight. Let's go, people."

Natalie started to follow the others when she felt Stephen catch her arm. She glanced at the blonde-haired man, raising an eyebrow.

Stephen glanced towards the others before meeting Natalie's blue-eyed gaze. "We already have two dead who we'll be transporting to the slammer, Nat. You're not going to stay here. I need you in Richmond."

Natalie opened her mouth to argue. She was a pathologist, not a glorified hearse driver. But Connor wasn't done.

Stephen shook his head. "Nat, you and I have worked level four before. I trust you. Find out what this bug is."

Natalie nodded. "Alright." She started back towards her seat, once again reclaiming her seat. She looked up, worry peaking from her blue eyes. "Be careful, Stephen."

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"You must be Doctor Connor. It's good to meet the legend."

Stephen arched a blonde eyebrow at the greens-clad doctor who stretched a calloused hand towards him. It was never a good sign when Connor was called a legend. "You must be Colonel Whittaker. What have we got?"

The silver-haired man nodded, already moving through the linoleum-tiled atrium towards the bank of elevators. "I have three Airborne who all reported to the medic with flu-like symptoms fourteen days ago. Then we had two bleed out. Since then I've had ten enlisted and two officers go down with this bug." A strong finger stabbed out at the call button and moments later the elevator dinged open. The colonel waved Connor's team into the elevator and then stepped inside himself.

Miles nodded, already correlating symptoms. "What made you consider Ebola?"

Whittaker glanced at the young doctor. "We're active in Sudan. And flu doesn't cause massive bleeding." The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened. "Ah, we're here." He stepped off the floor, barreling down the hallway towards the swinging doors at the end of the corridor.

Connor glanced at Eva, pulling her aside. "I need a media blanket. No one knows anything until we say otherwise."

Eva nodded, pulling out her Bluetooth headset before she placed it on her ear and began to dial numbers on her touch-screen phone. "I'll take care of it," she promised, hurrying back the way that the team had come.

Whittaker had paused, waiting for Connor to catch up. "We've had bad here. This is a military hospital. We're used to seeing injuries caused by war and accident. We're out of our depth on this."

Connor watched the older man. It was obvious that Whittaker was competent. The way the staff in the hospital deferred to him in passing made that obvious. And this bug had the doctor scared. "You did the right thing, Colonel. We'll take this over. Who had direct contact with the patients?"

Whittaker pushed open the double doors, revealing that this was an observation balcony over a surgical suite. Thick glass windows overlooked the room below, keeping the virus killing the men below from those who watched above. All the remnants of a surgical suite had been removed, replaced by seven hospital beds and seven patients. "The receiving doctor and nurse who treated the men are the patients on the end."

Miles swallowed. Below were seven people who had already started to bleed from all orifices. They were all strapped to the beds, IV's dripping steadily into them and thin tubing replacing blood that was seeping from the body. "What's the timeframe?"

Whittaker ran his hand over his face. "Anywhere from fourteen days to five. I've read everything there is. All the CDC documentation. It behaves like Ebola but not." He glanced at Connor. "If this is a out of control train, we need to know now."

Connor nodded. "Miles, triple glove and full suit on this. Decontamination after every contact. Colonel, you'll assist."

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Frank stepped outside the hospital, his dark eyes watching the few soldiers milling about the sidewalk lining the arching driveway. So many years had passed since his Navy corpsman days. In those days he'd been a newly married man with small children. His fingers fidgeted momentarily in a physical memory of the cigarettes that used to be his constant companion before the Gulf.

Under the shade of the smoking pavilion two hundred yards from the hospital's main entrance was a man who looked about as military as the Dalai Lama. Frank arched a brow as he started across the sunbleached pavement, curiosity drawing him towards the lean man. As he neared the other man, he noted the fitness indicating a strict physical regimen. He'd think military except for the lanky hair and civilian clothing.

"Cigarette?" offered the lean, copper-skinned man.

Frank shook his head, watching as long calloused fingers flicked his lighter open and lit a Marlboro Smooth. There was some Native American blood in this man. Had to be. "You waiting for someone?"

The man took a long drag on the cigarette before plucking it from between his lips, his cigarette resting comfortably between his fingers. "You. You must be Powell." The skin at the corner of his hazel eyes crinkled as he noted the surprise flickering in Frank's eyes. "I'm Sergeant Brown. And I'm tasked with helping you figure out what's happening to our boys."

Frank nodded slowly, watching the lanky man finish his cigarette and crush it into the ashtray. "How'd you know who I was?"

The sergeant grinned lazily. "I can spot a cop a mile away."

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Eva's nose wrinkled as she stepped into the confines of the Fayetteville Examiner. One of the few remaining locally owned papers, it hadn't bowed to the conglomerates gobbling up mom and pop publications. For a local paper it was surprisingly high end. She had half-expected to see a rickety printing press churning out broadsheets and the printer setting the type by hand. It was almost a let down to hear the presses running in the bowels of the buildings basements, a low rumble filling the air and shaking dust into swirling motes.

Young journalists with cellphones seemingly grafted to their ears typed frenetically, ignoring everything around them.

All that was missing was the wreaths of cigarette smoke and this could have been a scene from some seventies newspaper movie.

"Can I help you?"

Eva met the helpful gaze of the plump woman who had approached her. "Yes, I'm looking for the editor."

A chuckle escaped the woman's lips. "You found her. I'm Hannah McCabe. How can I help you?"

Eva smiled. "I'm Eva Rossi, National Institutes of Health." She handed over her credentials, watching as the newswoman read them carefully before handing them back. "We've been called into the area to assist with a possible outbreak of avian flu."

The older woman gasped, a hand going to her throat. "Sweet Christ." She motioned the slim woman towards an office and waited until Eva had claimed a chair before closing her office door and claiming her own seat behind the desk. "How can we help?"

Eva arched a brow. She didn't get cooperation unless she browbeat or blackmailed, ordinarily. "We need to let the public know what to look for and how they can protect themselves from infection. And we also need to keep the public from panicking."

Hannah nodded, leaning back in her chair. "We'll do all we can to help. The bases here are this town's lifeblood. I'm guessing that they're the ones who called you in?"

Eva smothered a smile. The editor was fishing but she had to give the older woman credit. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an envelope and handed it to the editor, watching as the woman perched the glasses that had been hanging around her neck upon her nose. "That's the press statement about the situation. We'd appreciate your help."

Eva didn't miss the fact that while Hannah was very compliant, the sparkle in her eyes bespoke a newshound. As she pushed open the door of the Fayetteville Examiner and stepped out into the heat, she prayed a silent prayer that her skills would be enough to keep this particular story quiet.

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TBC…


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